Confrontation
by Kooro
Summary: Mary and Marshall are forced to go to therapy where they realize a few things about themselves... and each other. MxM of course.
1. Mary's Confrontation

**Hey, I'm back with an all new multi-chaptered story. **

**Now that the season is over – for a whole summer! – many fanfics will have to be home-made, in a sense, since there can't be a whole of post episode or between episode fics as there was before. **

**So, here's my own home-made fic with the same characters we all know and love, especially together.**

Mary's Confrontation

Mary fidgeted in the chair, making the plastic cover squeak loudly. She cringed. Weren't therapist chairs suppose to be comfortable? She sure as hell wasn't comfortable. She was ready to bolt but, under Stan's suggestion, the shrink had locked the door.

Mary gave up on trying to settle herself and glared at her therapist instead. Maybe she could scare the shrink just enough to cancel the cession.

But Stan had thought of that too. He had hired a tough female who seemed to be just as defiant as Mary, and possibly as strong: literally and figuratively. This woman wasn't going to let Mary off the hook in even the slightest way. Even her name – Dr. Stone – denied such thoughts of escape.

Man, as soon as she was done here, Mary was going to hunt down Stan and disembowel him. Of course, this cession was to talk her out of such things and dig deep to see why she really wanted to kill Stan. Please, the only digging she was going to do was to make a grave.

"So," Dr. Stone sighed, adjusting her notepad on her leg. "What do you want to talk about first? Your job or you family?" Dr. Stone paused to examine Mary. "Or should I just let you relax until this cession is over?"

All right. This woman got Mary. Finally.

"Option three," Mary said with a faint smirk.

"Too bad," Dr. Stone sneered. "We'll start with your family."

Mary smirked right back. This woman was tough and reminded Mary a little of herself. She had earned a little of Mary's respect, but not enough to get her to talk about her _feelings._

"According to your file, you have a mother, a sister, and a missing father as your family," Dr. Stone said as she flipped through a file that had so conveniently been placed on her desk by none other than Stan.

"No, I have a drug dealer, a whore, and a gambler as my family," Mary shot back.

Dr. Stone nodded thoughtfully. "There's a lot of anger there."

Mary met Dr. Stone's steady gaze. "There's a lot of other stuff too."

"Talking about it helps," Dr. Stone offered in a tone that told Mary she didn't have a choice in the matter.

"I'm not much of a talker," Mary replied casually.

Dr. Stone sighed. "Let's get this straight. Your boss has hired me to talk to you for two hours. With people like you, I just sit and watch the time go by and collect my pay at the end."

"Must be tough," Mary snorted.

"But with you," Dr. Stone continued, unfazed, "there's a lot of stuff going on with you, that much I can tell. And, seeing as you are already somewhat of a dangerous character, the feelings you bottle up will erupted upon innocent bystanders."

Mary stared at Dr. Stone intently. This woman could see all that?

"And when that happens, you're going to lose all that are close to you, which I'm guessing aren't too many anymore."

Mary looked away with mock-disinterest. Her mask was set in place. She would show no emotion as this woman picked apart her heart to expose her fears.

"You hate your family, you have to handle a lot on the job, and you have no companion; no boyfriend or husband to look out for you or to talk to."

It was all true. How could this shrink see so much in Mary in just the first ten minutes? Maybe that was why Stan hired her. Dr. Stone was experienced with hard heads like Mary. She had seen what they could do and what they had become.

"But it seems you do have a partner," Dr Stone said, giving Mary a meaningful glance before looking back down at the file. "A Mr. Marshall Mann, I believe."

Mary looked up to meet Dr. Stone's smug gaze.

"What about Marshall?" she spat.

"It seems you two have been partners for a few years now," Dr. Stone said. "I'm surprised you haven't pushed him away yet."

Dr. Stone looked back at Mary and her eyes widened slightly. Mary kept her mask on, betraying no emotion that could hint at her relationship with Marshall.

"Unless," Dr. Stone mused, placing her finger thoughtfully on her bottom lip, "unless he's immune."

Mary's mask fell for only a second as her mouth twitched into a smile and her eyes softened.

Yes, Marshall was immune to her constant pestering, her sarcastic remarks, her harmful way of keeping him at a distance. She had convinced herself that she was protecting him from herself and her family but really, she was protecting herself from him.

If she let Marshall too close, if she depended on him too much, then she would fold. She would lose her strength and yearn for a simple life. He couldn't have that, not with her background.

And if Marshall were to leave her… she would be crushed, unfixable. No, she couldn't risk getting close to anyone that could hurt her, not even Marshall: her best and only friend.

"I see," Dr. Stone said as she tapped her chin. "So you like Marshall Mann?"

Mary inhaled sharply. How did the conversation go from her family to her relationship with Marshall? She should have just talked about how she was tired of cleaning up her family's messes to avoid such a subject. But now she was trapped. She would have to talk or sit for another hour and forty minutes.

"In a professional sense, yes," Mary answered carefully. "He's my partner."

Dr. Stone nodded as she scribbled something down on her notepad. Mary cringed. Hopefully she didn't give too much away. What if someone else saw that notepad?

"You trust him?" Dr. Stone asked, not looking up from her notes.

Mary looked away. Why wasn't there a window in the room? She could at least distract herself if she could look out a window. It felt like the walls were closing in on her.

"Yes," she said simply. "We've been through a lot together. I trust him to get the information I need and to back me up." She trusted him with her life.

"And does he do everything you ask of him?"

Mary thought about it then answered, "Yes," to her own surprise. Marshall always did what she asked and he always pulled through. She had never noticed before.

"Does he listen to you?"

"Yes," Mary answered curtly.

Marshall was always there, always available to lend a helping hand or an unbiased view of a situation. When Mary had a question, he would look for the answer. If she had a story to tell, he would be waiting to hear.

"Do you talk?"

"No."

Despite Marshall's uncanny ability to listen without discrimination, Mary never confided in him. Sure, she might tell him little bits about how she was feeling but she never completely dropped her shield and told him everything. She just wasn't that strong.

Dr. Stone nodded and wrote on her notepad.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked.

"Yes," Mary whispered.

She wanted so badly just to tell Marshall everything: how she felt about her family, her job, Raph; everything. But she just couldn't do it. She couldn't bring herself to sit down in front of Marshall and talk. She was afraid if breaking down in front of him, of revealing the scared little girl that she kept locked away from everyone.

And the sad part was, she knew that he would listen. She knew that he would silently listen; without judging her, without fearing her, without hating her. He would offer comfort when she needed it and keep a distance when she needed it. He would offer advice – which she probably wouldn't take – and then offer to take her mind off of things by doing something fun. If she wasn't ready to carry on, then he would pat her on the back, get some coffee and movies and stay with her until he felt she was well enough to be on her own.

"But you're afraid of scaring him away or saying too much. Is that right?" Dr. Stone said gently, as if reading Mary's thoughts.

Mary nodded, her mask falling away as her vision blurred with oncoming tears. She blinked them back.

"I see." Dr. Stone placed her notepad and pen on the desk over Mary's file. She leaned forwards, placing her elbows on her knees and resting her chin on her hands. Mary involuntarily leaned forward as well as if preparing to share a secret with a shrink who had promised confidentially.

"Do you like Marshall Mann?" Dr. Stone repeated in a serious tone.

"Yes," Mary answered automatically. She didn't need to think of an excuse this time. "He's my best friend."

"Does he like you?" Dr. Stone asked in the same serious manner.

"I don't know," Mary admitted. It wasn't like he brought her flowers and chocolate. He never openly said he loved her and he hardly touched her like the lovers on Jinx's soap operas did.

"He doesn't say that he does," Mary said submissively. "But I'd like to think so."

"Actions speak louder than words," Dr. Stone said with a knowing smile.

Mary nodded slowly. Marshall did more for her than pass a joke or relay information. He drove her when her car was broken. He brought her coffee on days that she felt like crap. He smiled when everyone was glaring at her. He researched everything she asked for and than some. He provided back up even when he was busy. He had even saved her life by risking his own. And then, he had kissed her.

To Mary, the kiss had merely been a way to smear some lipstick on Marshall's face in order to fool the jewel thieves that were threatening her witness, Trina's, life. But Marshall had taken a different course of action, he had kissed back.

Mary had instantly pulled away of course. They _were_ on the job. But that didn't mean that she didn't feel anything. Kissing Marshall had been… kind of nice. She might have actually enjoyed it if they weren't two bad guys with guns several stalls away.

"Well done," Dr. Stone said, standing.

Mary looked at her quizzically.

"I think we've made a breakthrough," she said with a warm smile.

"But… I hardly said anything," Mary said in complete puzzlement.

"Maybe not with your words," Dr. Stone smiled. "Actions do speak louder you know."

So, Dr. Stone had read Mary's words, not with her ears but with her eyes. With her mask gone, Mary was sure that her emotions were clear on her face. Dr. Stone had seen everything Mary had been thinking. She was sure of it. So that was why Stan had hired her. Maybe Mary would hold off on his funeral for a while.

"I say we take a quick break for a few minutes and then come back to finish our talk," Dr. Stone said as she unlocked the door and held it open for Mary. "I'll even let you choose the topic this time."

Mary smiled. Dr. Stone wasn't so bad. Mary was even coming to like her a little. Understanding could often make two people friends.

Mary stepped out of the room, relishing the freedom it provided.

"Don't think about running off though," Dr. Stone threatened with mock-intimidation. "Stan has already put guards at all the exits."

Mary grimaced. Count on Stan to think everything through.

"The lounge is on the second floor, the third door on your right," Dr. Stone explained. "It would be best to go there. You probably shouldn't go walking around. Ruins the secrecy of other people's cessions."

Mary nodded in understanding. "Ok. Thanks."

Dr. Stone returned the nod. "There should be snacks so help yourself."

Mary gave a wave and started walking down the hall towards the elevators. Maybe she would consider talking to Dr. Stone. She seemed like a reasonable person. She was no Marshall but Mary figured she could trust her with a few details about her life. It couldn't hurt right? It wasn't like she was ever going to see Dr. Stone again after today. She would make sure of it.

Who needed a therapist with a degree when she had Marshall. Who knew? Maybe she would even talk to Marshall about a few things. Unlikely, but still a nice thought.

**There's chapter #1**

**Next chapter is Marshall's turn with his own shrink. **

**Stay tuned! **


	2. Marshall's Confrontation

**Come back for more have you? I don't blame you. I mean, this is Marshall's chapter after all. **

**I write Marshall much better than Mary. His personality is so likeable and carefree. Mary is always so strict and you never quite know what's going on in her head. Marshall may have a lot of useless trivia in his head but his character is easier to write about than Mary's for sure. **

**I have fun writing about him. **

Marshall's Confrontation

"Therapy has also received major breakthroughs in the 20th century. Insane asylums were replaced with hypnosis and medication. Eventually, physical therapy was chosen as a better route since sitting and talking seemed better than forcefully controlling behavior."

Marshall had been rambling about the history of therapy and therapists for the past ten minutes, displaying his wide knowledge of the field. While he was enjoying sharing the information he knew about therapy, his therapist was tiredly rubbing his temples.

Ever since Stan had commanded that both he and Mary go see a therapist, Marshall had been bubbling with facts. All throughout the car drive, he had been telling Mary about everything he knew about therapy. He continued sprouting facts in the waiting room until Mary was called away – much to her relief from what he could tell.

Then Marshall's therapist – a short man that reminded him of a Stan with glasses – had taken him to his own room to talk privately.

Marshall had been ecstatic. Finally, he could talk to someone who actually worked in the field. Marshall couldn't wait to match wits but, to his dismay, Dr. Crey didn't seem the least bit interested. He was actually beginning to look a little annoyed.

And here they still were: Marshall continuing to describe therapy to the therapist that looked ready to take a handful of Advil. It was funny in a way. Dr. Crey's reaction reminded Marshall of Mary. They both seemed to be suffering.

"Fascinating," Dr. Crey muttered as soon as Marshall took a breath to carry on. "Now how about we talk about you instead?"

Marshall shut his mouth to stop the fountain of words that were threatening to spill out.

Dr. Crey removed his hand from his head and focused on Marshall, his notepad ready with his pen suspended over the paper.

"What about me?" Marshall asked casually, leaning back against the couch and allowing his long legs to extend out in front of him.

"Well," Dr. Crey said patiently, "seeing as you know so much about therapy I assume that you also know that it is a time to talk about one's feelings so as to 'lift a burden,' if you will."

Marshall nodded in agreement. That was what therapy was all about: talking about feelings. Man, he wished he could be in the same room as Mary. He would love to see her fight against her therapists and deny to say a single thing about her feelings. He chuckled at the thought.

"What do you find funny?" Dr. Crey asked disapprovingly.

"Nothing," Marshall waved it away. "Just thinking about how much my partner must be hating this." He chuckled to himself again.

"Miss Mary Shannon right?" Dr. Crey asked, opening a folder that lay in his desk. Marshall was sure that it was his personal file.

"That's her." Marshall said with a smile.

Dr. Crey examined Marshall for a moment and then nodded. "So you like Miss Shannon I presume?"

"What?" Marshall blanched. "What makes you think that?"

"Your face," Dr. Crey replied smoothly. "I know that smile only too well."

"Well, I guess I do. I mean, she's my partner and my friend. People connect in a way after spending a few years together," Marshall said hurriedly, rubbing the back of his neck distractively.

"I see," Dr. Crey mused. "Does she know?"

"Know what?" Marshall asked skeptically. Therapy wasn't looking so great anymore.

"That you like her?" Dr. Crey replied.

"No. At least I don't think so." Marshall backpedalled. "I mean it's not like we kiss and hug or anything like a couple. We're just… partners."

Dr. Crey nodded and wrote a quick word on his notepad. Marshall tired to peer at the writing but Dr. Crey put the notepad on the desk and out of Marshall's view.

"Do you want her to like you?" he asked gently.

"I don't know. Yes?" Marshall answered tentatively.

Dr. Crey nodded thoughtfully. Then he moved to the edge of his chair to look fully at Marshall. He clasped his hands in front of him in a professional manner. Marshall straightened in his seat.

"What do you like about her?" Dr. Crey asked.

Marshall couldn't help but smile as he started on the list. "She's so strong and stubborn. She's easy to make fun of but quick on the punishment. She's so protective; watching over people that others would have already forgotten. She's smart and her smile is…"

Marshall's voice faded as he stared off in the distance. He loved that soft smile, when Mary was no longer a U.S. Marshal, but just a woman; just Mary. It softened her usual tense features and brightened her eyes magnificently. She was her most beautiful when she smiled.

"But, because she's stubborn, she doesn't let anyone in," Marshall continued. "You know? She doesn't talk or share her feelings. She doesn't allow herself to stop and think or even cry. She pushes herself too hard and puts everyone's problems on her own shoulders, even though she hates cleaning up other people's messes."

Mary intentionally distanced herself form everyone. She was tough and hardly dropped her defenses. But that was her personality: stubborn strength. Marshall wouldn't have her any other way. But it wouldn't hurt if she confided in him just a little more.

Marshall was used to watching Mary as she silently suffered from some internal conflict. He always offered his help and was always waiting for her to open up, but she usually didn't. And he didn't push her. He didn't ask her what was wrong or pester her with sympathy until she blurted out her problem. No, if he did that, he would surely lose her.

Instead, he waited. He stood by and stayed close, waiting for the moment when Mary would need him; when she was ready to talk. He knew it was doing Mary no good but it was all he could do: wait at a distance. It wasn't like he could change her.

"Yep, you love her," Dr. Crey sighed as he leaned back in his seat. "Your face says it all."

Marshall snapped to attention to stare, bewildered, at his therapist. The guy sure wasn't one to be subtle, obviously.

Marshall sighed submissively. "Maybe I do, but I doubt that she feels the same way."

"Well, talk to her," Dr. Crey urged. "Tell her how you feel and ask her how she feels about you."

Marshall laughed without humor. "Are you kidding?!" he exclaimed. "First she'll kill me for bringing something like that up and then she'd probably beat me up a little before running away."

No, he couldn't tell Mary. Worst case scenario: she would run away from him. Mary was too cautious and distrustful. She never let anyone get close and if Marshall tried, he would scare her off. Mary never did deal with serious stuff well.

"No," Marshall sighed sadly. "I can't tell her."

"Understandable," Dr. Crey sighed with just as much sadness as Marshall.

"I'll admit I like her but it's for the best that I don't admit it to her," Marshall explained. "I can wait. It's not like we're going anywhere." A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth.

He and Mary would stay partners for a long time. They were a great team and Stan wouldn't trade them in for anyone else. Maybe he would tell her at some point but for now, he was fine with waiting. He was used to it seeing as he had been waiting for Mary since the first day he met her.

"Plus," he stated with more cheer, "I'll just follow her if she tries to leave.

"And speaking of leaving, did you know that the average person exits a room at least 46 times a day. Unless that person was taking a vacation or staying at home. Then the number would decrease to something more like-"

"All right!" Dr. Crey interrupted with a decisive – and rather loud – clap of his hands. "How about we take a quick break and come back to finish after a few minutes?"

Marshall shrugged. "Sounds good to me."

"Good," Dr. Crey replied almost happily. He stood up and opened the door for Marshall. "You can go to the lounge: second floor; third door on your right. There are always plenty of snacks so helps yourself."

Dr. Crey's smile became somewhat forced as Marshall slowly rose to his feet and sauntered through the door.

"See, that was my 27th exit today which means that-"

The door was abruptly slammed shut in Marshall's face before he could finish his sentence. Marshall smirked to himself. All he had to do was say some trivial knowledge and he could get out of almost any situation. Yet another good reason to surf the internet and buy encyclopedias.

Marshall turned and headed down the hall towards the elevator; shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Wonder if they have any cookies?" he said to himself as the elevator's shiny, silver doors came into view.

**Uh-oh. Marshall and Mary are heading towards the same lounge. Wonder what's going to happen next. **

**Thanks for all the support. You know, this story is on being watched on 10 people's alert lists. Glad to see you're looking forward to what's coming next.**


	3. Their Confrontation

**Here's the chapter everyone has eagerly been waiting for. How do I know you've been waiting? Could be that I'm a stalker. Ha-ha, funny stuff. But seriously, I'm not. You gotta believe me. I only know what I know because of my "Stats" page. 21 people are watching this – that I know of. Oh, and the reviews are a big hint too.**

**Since, you've been waiting to read this chapter, I'll just forewarn you that I have a lot of dedications to make. So, if you want to skip ahead all the bold to read the actual story, I understand. But, when you're done, you can look back up here to see who's helped my writing. Thanks. **

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**(Three seconds to decide whether to keep reading this of the story… 3… 2… 1…) **

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**Hello and welcome to those who have decided to keep reading on to the dedications. It's a long list. Check to see if your name is here. It will be underlined. **

**First off, I'll admit that I've made a few writing errors. It's summer and my mind's still on partial lockdown. Anyway, I'd like to thank ****W E Wofford**** and ****angirl319**** for correcting me on those. You guys are like my personal publishers. Thanks. **

**Hello again ****Scoobygang101.**** Glad you've joined me for another story. I'm always happy to hear from you.**

**Karen,**** thanks for sticking with me through my stories and the answer to your alert question has been answered by the ever helpful: ****Poet2002**** on the "Review" page. By the way, love your "Who Protects the Protector" fic **

**Poet2002.**** Thanks for your support.**

**A big thanks to ****System D Rail**** for all the love!**

**I hope this chapter is as interesting as you hoped for, ****bk-1205. ****Thanks for the review.**

**Thanks for the self-esteem boost graciously given by ****Seceretroses.**** It's words like yours that pull me through. **

**May your hopes be fulfilled ****LogicalGoth.**** Thanks for your support.**

**I agree with ****Tayter.Bug7.**** Marshall **_**is **_**cute!**

**Thanks for the comment, ****ProudRHrShipper.**** I do my best. Much appreciated.**

**Scarletta-snape.**** If you like the part with the mention of cookies, you're gonna love what's coming next.**

**And I give more thanks to those who have kept reading and sticking with me. If your name isn't up here, it's not because I dislike you. I appreciate all your kind words. I just have a limited hold on your attention span. Sorry and keep reading. **

Their Confrontation

"One… two…" Mary counted as she walked past the first two doors on the second floor.

"Three," she said and turned to the right. Right where Dr. Stone had said stood the lounge door. On a shiny plate were the words "lounge" to help anyone who had a knack for getting lost.

Mary entered the small room and immediately zoned in on the round table that stood in the middle of the room laden with sympathy treats: cookies, chocolate, peppermints, and some other sweet candies. There was also a bowl full of chips and an unopened container of salsa. A water cooler stood alone in the corner. Four chairs were folded on the other side of the room.

Mary examined the room until she found that it suited her well enough to stay in for a while. She unfolded a chair and sat down near the table – at arm's length from the cookies and candy.

With a sigh, she reached over and grabbed a candy bar. She opened it without seeing what kind it was and bit into it. Smooth milk chocolate melted on her tongue.

"Mmm," she purred to herself. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to eat chocolate. She missed the sweet flavor that had the power to cheer even her up.

Suddenly, the door opened and an all too familiar tale man with wavy brown hair entered. Mary froze, mid-chew, to stare at her partner. Even he seemed a little surprised to see her there.

"Marshall," Mary greeted.

"Long time, no see," Marshall joked with a nod. He entered the room, closing the door behind him.

Mary lowered her eyes from his face and concentrated solely on the candy bar she was eating. Her eyes may have been distracted but her mind sure wasn't. Her conversation about Marshall with Dr. Stone coincidently popped up into her thoughts. The chocolate lost its flavor.

"Hellooo sugar cookie," Marshall said cheerfully.

Mary nearly choked on the chocolate. She hurriedly swallowed and glared at Marshall with burning cheeks. "Excuse me?!" she exclaimed.

"What?" Marshall asked with pure innocence. His hand was hovering over the plate of cookies. "You don't like sugar cookies?" He picked up a cookie and examined it sadly.

"Oh," Mary sighed gratefully – and with a hint of disappointment. "No, that's not what I-… Nevermind." She sighed and shoved another mouthful of chocolate into her mouth to prevent herself form saying anything stupid.

Marshall shrugged and bite gleefully into the cookie. Still chewing, he retrieved a chair and sat down beside Mary.

Oddly self-conscious, Mary kept her eyes glued to her candy bar and her mouth chewing busily. For a while, the only noise in the room came from the two chewing mouths.

Soon, she had finished her candy bar and clutched the wrapper tightly in her hand. Marshall's content sigh signified the completion of his sugar cookie. Now it was silent in the room.

Mary stole a quick glance at Marshall.

What was she going to do? Should she say something? After confessing that she maybe, kinda, sorta, liked Marshall and that she _did_ want to talk to him about her problems, she wasn't sure what to do now that they were together, alone, in a room where they had privacy.

Should she try to get her actions to speak or would that just freak Marshall out? Should she leave now? No, she couldn't do that. If she upped and left, Marshall would think he had done something wrong. But she couldn't just sit and say nothing.

Feeling that he was being watched, Marshall turned his head and his eyes met Mary's. She flinched and hurriedly turned away. Her hair fell like a curtain against her cheek, blocking her face from Marshall's view. He looked away as well.

What should he do? Should he take Dr. Crey's advice and tell Mary that he liked her? After confessing that he did like Mary – a lot – it felt a little weird to silently sit so close to her and still see her as "just a partner." To make matter worse, they were all alone in a closed room: completely private.

If he told her his feelings, would he scare her? She already seemed a little edgy. Maybe he should leave and let her relax. But if he did that then Mary would probably wonder what she had done wrong or if something was wrong with Marshall. No, he couldn't put that burden on Mary, not when she was already dealing with so much.

As one, both Mary and Marshall let out a heavy sigh. Startled by the other's same reaction, they looked at each other only to look away again.

Marshall nervously drummed his fingers on his knee while Mary crumpled the plastic candy bar wrapper in her hand. The lack of words was beginning to make the marshals fidget uncomfortably. To Mary, it felt like she was back in therapy. She couldn't stand it anymore.

Apparently, neither could Marshall.

"Listen," they said at the same time.

Marshall clamped his mouth shut as Mary's face flushed.

"Sorry, you go first," Marshall offered politely.

"N-no. You go ahead," Mary stuttered.

An awkward pause issued once again between the two as they waited for the other to speak first. Marshall just stared at Mary expectantly while Mary felt the heat slowly rise to her cheeks. His oceanic eyes did not release hers and she found that she couldn't look away.

Slowly, Marshall started to lean towards her, his eyes never leaving hers.

To her surprise, Mary found that her body was being drawn to Marshall like a magnet. She couldn't think of a good excuse to pull away. Maybe she would just let her actions speak for her. Dr. Stone would be proud.

"Mary," Marshall breathed, his warm breath caressed her lips. Mary shook her head, not wanting words to ruin what they were about to do.

But – seeing as God hated her – it was not to be.

"Mr. Mann, time to come back no-"

Dr. Crey stopped before he could finish, his eyes staring wide-eyed at the partners whose faces were only a hair's length away from each other's.

Mary pulled back abruptly with a sharp gasp. Marshall snapped to attention and jerked back against his chair, nearly tipping over. Mary bowed her head to hide her eyes and her flaming cheeks. Marshall could only stare in bewilderment at the intruder.

"S-sorry. Didn't mean to interrupt," Dr. Crey stammered as he unsuccessfully tried to avert his eyes.

"Miss Shannon, let's go," Dr. Stone said as she emerged from behind Dr. Crey.

"Oh," she said as she took in the scene before her.

Mary jumped to her feet and exited the lounge as fast as possible. Dr. Stone exchanged looks with Dr. Crey and then trotted after Mary after giving Marshall an approving wink.

Marshall slowly rose to his feet, a small smile spreading across his face. He walked past the still flustered Dr. Crey and headed back towards the elevator.

"Twenty-eight," was all he said.

**I received some inspiration from an episode of "Just Shoot Me" for this chapter. I love that show. David Spades is an awesome Dennis Finch. Marshall has some competition in the cuteness factor with that little guy. Be sure to give me a holler if you also love that show!**

**Stay tuned. There's one more chapter after this. I wasn't going to end just like that. Sorry about breaking up the romantic moment. I'm just evil that way. Call it what you will, but I consider it humor. **

**Author's note:**** When Marshall said "twenty-eight," he was still counting the number of times he exits a room in a day. Just in case you forgot about that in the previous chapter. **


	4. Willing Confrontation

**Sorry about messing up the romantic moment in the last chapter. To make up for it – and to ensure that I don't suffer cruel and unusual punishment – here's the next chapter.**

**Thanks to all my readers for your support, spelling checks, and feel-good comments. I love it when you guys critique my work. Makes me feel all warm inside. Most of the time.**

**Just a quick congrats to ****Karen**** for creating an account. **

**And to give an opinion about ****Poet2002****'s wonder about "Trojan Horst": Mary said, "I know you loved the job and I thought you – I thought we were friends," which leaves me to believe that she was going to say "I thought you loved/liked me." That's just my thought on the matter. **

**Disclaimer: I own nothing and I only quoted the show to help my explanation. Please don't arrest me.**

Willing Confrontation

Mary shuffled back and forth curtly in front of Marshall's house with her hands shoved deeply in her pockets. His front door loomed before her invitingly but Mary quickly tore her eyes away from it. Instead she eyed the three steps that led to the small front porch suspiciously.

It had been a whole week now since she had returned from Dr. Stone's office. She had been glad to have finally been able to leave the place behind her but the conversation with Dr. Stone still lingered in her head.

Of course, there was another thought that continued to intrude her mind. It often popped up, unannounced, causing her to blush fiercely and excuse herself from whomever she may have been with so she could clear her head in private.

It was the thought that she had come so close to nearly kissing Marshall. Marshall: her partner and friend. Only her partner and friend.

Yet, even after spending days trying to convince herself that they were just friendly partners, _that _thought still haunted her. But it wasn't a haunting that tormented her with the desire to flee, but with the desire to indulge.

Ever since that fateful moment in the lounge, she had found that she had actually wanted to kiss Marshall. And for the past week, she had been craving him, craving that feeling that she would experience as soon as his lips touched hers.

It had been torture to go to work and pretend that nothing had happened in the lounge. Marshall played the nonchalant part well. It was like their near-kiss had never happened. He carried on as usual, looking after witnesses, looking up information, looking out for Mary. He was unaffected.

Mary on the other hand couldn't stand to be alone in the same room as him. His usual greeting made her cheeks burn and his smile made her heart flutter. Her breath hitched whenever he got too close and she was quick to busy herself with work whenever he entered the office. She was stressing which seemed to amuse Marshall – to her annoyance.

And now, here she as pacing in front of house, wanting desperately to ask to come in but not wanting to put herself into such a vulnerable position. It was a dilemma that was making her heart ache.

Deciding that avoiding Marshall would only pain her more, Mary took a deep breath and ascended the three stairs with slow, heavy feet. She stopped at the door.

Soft music was trickling to her ears but it didn't sound like Mumbo so Marshall probably wasn't practicing. Maybe he was practicing a different dance style.

Mary shook her head hard. She was just looking for excuses to leave now. She had to stay firm and go through with this or else she would live in torment for life.

With fierce determination, Mary removed her hand form her pocket and rapped the door three times.

"Coming," Marshall's voice sang form inside and the music was lowered.

Mary fidgeted. This was the moment of truth. She was going to take Dr. Stone's advice and open up to Marshall. It was the right thing to do but…

Mary looked behind her and saw her car. It would take only a few seconds to jump in and start it up. She could be off and driving away by the time Marshall opened the door, that is, if her car granted her the grace of starting up the first time.

With her luck, her car would stall, Marshall would see her, and then she'd be in the awkward position of explaining why she had tried to play ding-dong-ditch.

Mary reluctantly looked back at the door as the sound of a lock clicking out of place alerted her. She took a deep breath as the door opened. No turning back now.

"Yeah?" Marshall asked, looking out.

All he saw was a flash of blonde hair before two arms wrapped around his neck and soft lips pressed against his.

Marshall stood stock-still as Mary kissed him. He was expecting his neighbor or maybe the mailman looking for a fact. Never in his dreams – well maybe in his dreams, but certainly never in real life – did he expect Mary to come to his house. And kiss him, no less.

Mary pulled her head away. She saw Marshall's knitted brow and questioning gaze. "Sorry," she muttered.

Jeez, she had come over to open up and talk; not to throw herself at her partner. But, she just couldn't resist. He was in loose pants and a tank-top that showed off his muscular chest just right. And he smelled of rosemary and other tantalizing spices. He must have been cooking something when Mary interrupted. He even tasted like spices.

Mary looked down as red seeped into her cheeks. She started to detach her arms from Marshall's neck when he stopped her. He placed his hands on her elbows, trapping her arms around his neck. Once he knew Mary wasn't going to move, his hands slid past her shoulders and down to her waist, holding her in place.

A knowing smile crossed his face as he lowered his lips over Mary's. She eagerly accepted the kiss and leaned into it. Marshall tilted his head, deepening the kiss.

Against Mary's wishes, Marshall pulled away, leaving his hands to rest on Mary's waist.

"So, how can I help you?" he asked with a smirking smile. "Or have I done enough?"

Mary smiled back tauntingly. "Just one more thing."

Marshall nodded for her to go on.

"Can we… talk?" she asked, her previous vigor dissipating.

She had come to Marshall's house to talk to him like Dr. Stone had suggested. Yet, strangely, she found herself wrapped in his arms; inhaling the spices that powdered his skin. They still hadn't separated.

"Sure," Marshall replied. "I just started some coffee and I still have a day left on some movies I rented if you want to watch one later. Don't worry. There're not about time-travel."

"That sounds great," Mary smiled.

"Hope you're hungry," Marshall said, leading Mary inside as he backed up. He still held her and she didn't dare release her grip on him. "I just made biscotti."

Mary laughed as she kicked the front door closed. She could always count on Marshall to cheer her up. Hell, she could count on Marshall to do anything.

**I know I made Mary a little bolder than usual but… come on. Girls, could you resist Marshall** **if he was in a tanktop and smelled like spices?**

**I don't actually know if Marshall cooks or not, especially something like biscotti but it seemed to match his character. Looks online, finds a recipe, makes a treat. He seems like the type to try it.**

**Seeing as I'm not a big fan of sex scenes, I'll end here unless you want a better closing chapter. If yes, I can put something together. Something friendly.**

**Author's Note:**** The coffee and movie reference comes from the first chapter when Mary realizes that Marshall would listen to her and then make her coffee and watch movies with her if she wasn't ready to carry on with life. **


	5. Way Past Confrontation

**Since many of you asked for another chapter, I decided to make a little lovey-dovey fluffy one. Well, technically, it's more lovely-dovey funny that fluffy. And I don't think it's necessarily sappy. It's romantic if that clears up anything…. Oh, now you've got me all confused. **

**Anyway, I thank you for all your reviews. Each one made me smile and some even made me laugh. **

**But I think my best REVIEW AWARD would have to go to ****Dakota Kid.**** Thank you so much for your enthusiasm and suggestion. At your request, I did in fact take a bow. I hope you keep reading and enjoy this chapter just as much as the last. **

**(You can receive your award within the next hour at the USA channel building.)**

**If the award goes unclaimed, then I hereby give it to ****W E Wofford**** for having the same thoughts as me and for your constant support, lovely review, and supportive suggestion. You're a great person, you know that?**

Warning: reward does not actually exist. If it did, I'd have no idea how to get it to you. Please don't go to the TV station that houses the USA network. I'd hate for you to get thrown in jail or something for demanding to get a fictional award from some irritated secretary. Thank you and have a nice day.

Way Past Confrontation

The sun had long since dipped below the earth; it's tendrils of golden light no longer painted the clouds soft shades of pink and orange. Stars glistened in the black sky, a canopy of lights sporadically laced over the inhabitants of Earth.

A few street lamps enhanced the calming mood of nightfall, casting single rays of light that created a halo on the sidewalk. A tranquil breeze whistled through the trees in a symphony created solely by the leaves. Crickets added their music to the nighttime concert along with the occasional cry of a bird.

The homes that surrounded the concert had long turned in to sleep. Their windows were dark and vacant, indicating that the residents were fast asleep; oblivious to the one house that alienated itself with its one, still glowing window.

The curtains were drawn so as to not disturb the sober night with the threat of foreign light. But the curtains could not block out the murmur of the television or the laugh of a male. Those who wondered who would stay up so late and were curious enough to approach the window would be able to peek through a slit in the curtains to see a young couple consisting of a beautiful, blonde-haired woman cuddled against a tall, handsome man in front of the television.

The coffee table that stood between the couple and the TV was littered with two empty coffee cups, a plate of crumbs that had previously been laden with biscotti, and several movies. One 

movie box was empty and its content was being played on the TV. An empty bowl stood to the side with popcorn kernels resting at the bottom. Strewn all over the table and the floor around it were wads of tissues.

And there, snuggled comfortably on the small couch, sat Mary and Marshall.

Marshall was nestled deeply on the couch, his head supported by the back of the couch and his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed on the coffee table. A consistent smile was glued to his face as he watched the movie: a romantic comedy. One arm was draped over his partner's shoulders as she leaned against him.

Mary was curled up on her side with her legs close to her on the couch since there was little room to stretch. One arm was limp over her waist while the other was currently keeping her torso propped up so she wouldn't put her full weight on her partner. Her head rested against Marshall's shoulder nicely as he kept her pressed against his side.

The movie played out before her on the television but she hardly paid any attention to it. She was too busy keeping her breathing normal and relishing in the closeness that she shared with her friend.

She made sure that every breath was deep so she could take in all of Marshall's scent: the smell of spices that still lingered faintly on his skin, his shampoo that made his hair smell like lilacs (he claimed that it made his hair easier to manage), and his overall "Marshall" smell.

She nuzzled her cheek against Marshall's shoulder, enjoying the warmth that reverberated from his body and sank into hers. His arm over her shoulder presented a conscious weight that seemed likely to dent her for life.

Marshall's laugh shook Mary from her musings and she shifted her head slightly to look at his face. The TV lit up his features beautifully. His blue eyes sparkled and his smile was so alluring. His laugh in itself was a wonderful thing: carefree like… she couldn't even begin to describe it.

Mary tore her eyes away from her partner to look at the TV.

After Mary's sudden explosion of emotion, Marshall had taken her to this very couch to talk. Mary was hesitant at first, keeping most of her feelings locked away behind a dam; only allowing bits of it to trickle out through her mouth and into Marshall's ears.

But, as Marshall listened silently with those probing eyes and his gentle hands that stroked her back, Mary lost control. The dam broke and all her secrets and fears came pouring out at once.

She talked about the problem with her family, the pain brought by the disappearance of her father, the fear that she might not be able to protect a witness, the concern she felt for her relationship with Raph, her anger about Brandi's involvement with Raph, and pretty much everything else that was silently eating away at her.

Once her dam of secrets was broken, the dam that held back her tears was also torn down. The tears slid down her cheeks until several dark spots stained her pants. Her words grew incoherent as a lump intruded into her throat.

At that point, Marshall had excused himself to retrieve coffee, the biscotti, and a box of tissues. Mary didn't feel hungry but she gratefully accepted the gifts that calmed her nerves and loosened the constriction of her throat. She blew her nose several times and wiped her eyes before continuing at an easier pace. A few more tears squeezed out until her eyes were too dry to cry again.

She finished her coffee and stopped eating the biscotti – which were actually very good – signifying the end of her talk.

Without a question or suggestion, Marshall once again left the room and came back with an armful of movies and a bowl of popcorn. Mary chose the first one he offered, not caring what it was and having no interest in actually watching.

Marshall turned on the movie and settled in the couch besides Mary. She was too tense to relax just yet and Marshall didn't push her to do anything.

The movie started and Mary found that her choice had been "The Wedding Date." She smiled to herself. Marshall was such a sap. Only a guy like him would rent a romantic-comedy like this one.

Mary watched for a while but found that it didn't sit with her too well. Why would a woman go so out of her way to make her boyfriend jealous? Why would she even consider buying some gigolo and allowing it into her house? Was she so dense? The guy could have raped her!

But as the movie played on and Marshall's laughed soothed her, Mary finally relaxed. Marshall – sensing the change in atmosphere as the ominous rain cloud dissipated over Mary's head – threw his arm over her. Mary accepted the invitation and curled up on the couch, resting contently against Marshall.

That was the point where she stopped watching the movie. All she focused on was the feel and sound of the man that did so much for her. He was better than any pre-paid boyfriend.

The orchestra started up and Mary blinked at the television screen, focusing on it. The picture faded out and white credits passed over the black screen. The movie was over. Hopefully Marshall wouldn't quiz her on it. She would fail miserably.

Her fear was resolved as another sound made its way to Mary's ears: the sound of soft breathing. Marshall was snoring.

Mary carefully leaned away from Marshall, cringing as her stiff bones popped loudly. Marshall didn't flinch. Mary sat up and looked at Marshall's face. It was dimly lit by the TV but she could 

still make out his closed eyes and his slightly agape mouth. Hopefully he wasn't a big drooler. What a way to ruin the moment.

Mary smiled. Marshall looked so innocent when he was asleep, almost like a little kid. Mary wasn't too fond of children but she could always make an exception for Marshall. He was just too cute.

Marshall fidgeted and murmured quietly. His movement was enough to unsettle him and he slowly began to tip towards Mary. His head landed softly against her shoulder. He made a sound that almost sounded like a purr and Mary stifled a laugh.

She pressed her back against the couch, causing Marshall's head to slip down her arm to land safely in her lap. His legs slipped of the coffee table and landed with a dull thud on the carpeted floor. He made a content sound before continuing a soft snore. Mary shook her head with a chuckle.

"Good night doofus," she whispered quietly.

She leaned her head over Marshall's and touched her lips to his cheek. Then she pulled away and made herself comfortable.

"No guarantees that I won't move," Mary murmured. She wasn't one to stay in one spot while she slept. For all she knew, Marshall would wake up in an awkward position on the floor with Mary sprawled out on the couch.

Mary chuckled quietly to herself. She hadn't planned to stay the night but she didn't want to disturb Marshall. Oh well, it couldn't hurt to spend a sleepover with her friend. She always thought that sleepovers were fun parties that ended in the morning. This certainly wasn't a party but it was nice. She actually preferred it this way.

With a smile, Mary closed her eyes with a sigh.

The credits ended and the TV turned black.

**A little romance for our favorite "In Plain Sight" couple. **

**I couldn't decide whether to have Mary sleep in Marshall's lap or the other way around. I finally decided on Marshall sleeping on Mary's lap because I pictured him so cute with his head on her lap. After all he had done for Mary, she repays him by giving him a safe place to sleep. Although, if she moves in her sleep…**

**I kinda left the chapter open for another: Marshall waking up to find himself on the floor and such. If I do make another chapter, I should really stop it there with a good-bye at the door. I'd hate for this to carry on longer than necessary.**

**Your input would be greatly accepted. You are the reader. Thanks. **


	6. Who Needs Confrontation?

**Sorry this took so long. First I had to decide if I wanted to end the story with the morning and then I had to decide how to end it just right to tie up loose ends and to please you – the reader – as best as I could. **

**Since nearly every review asked for another chapter, here it is: the last chapter. **

**And a big THANK YOU to all my readers. Your support and kind words mean so much to me and I can only hope to continue to entertain you with me stories. **

Who Needs Confrontation Anyway?

Marshall Mann groaned as he slowly emerged from unconsciousness. He rubbed his eyes to ward off the light that disturb the previous darkness of sleep.

As he grew more accustomed to his surroundings, Marshall found that he was rather uncomfortable and that his body was lingering on the edge of pain. He groaned again in discomfort and – while keeping his eyes closed to fend off the light a little longer – tried to move into a position that didn't hurt as much.

Instead of finding relief, Marshall found that his body was pinned somehow and when he tried to see what was constricting him; his head collided with a hard object.

"Ow!" he hissed. Marshall reflexively dragged his head away from the object. When he tried to rub his head, he found that his hand couldn't reach. It too was being blocked by some solid, unforeseen force.

Disgruntled and thoroughly aggravated, Marshall reluctantly opened his eyes, blinking against the brightness of the sunlit surroundings.

Inches from his face stood the wooden leg of a table. Marshall blinked again in hopes that the table leg would dissolve into something more sensible, like a ceiling or a pillow.

To no avail, Marshall craned his neck into a different position in an attempt to see where he was. He saw carpet that was the same color as the one he had at home. At least that meant that he was still _at _home and not in the middle of the some street somewhere.

Marshall lifted his eyes from the carpet that was scratching his cheek and saw the familiar cream colored wall of his home and the bookshelf loaded with encyclopedias, almanacs, and world record books. Yep, he was definitely at home. He didn't know of anyone else who owned the entire encyclopedia collection including the one that contained everything that started with a period.

But, if he was still at home – in the living room no less – then why was he on the floor?

Marshall shifted his body as best as he could so that he could move his head to look up. When he finally managed to twist his body in the desired position, he saw the underside of his coffee table. Somehow, he had ended up sleeping under his coffee table. He couldn't remember why. Nothing should have been wrong with his bed.

Tired of being so confused – it just wasn't in his nature – Marshall jerked his body out from under the table with the limited use of his hands.

Finally, he managed to free himself. He rested for a moment with his back pressed against the bottom of his couch as he continued to scan the room for clues to why he had awaken on the floor.

What… were those wads of Kleenex? And why was there an empty bowl on the floor? Did he have some sort of party? Nothing was making sense. He didn't have a hangover, so he obviously didn't have alcohol. But then what had happened?

A soft sigh came from above Marshall, indicating that he wasn't alone in the room.

Marshall held his breath as he slowly sat up. He glanced over his shoulder and froze.

There, fully stretched out on his couch, was a woman.

Her back was to him so all he could see was the tangled mass of blonde hair that cascaded from the woman's head to flow over the side of the couch. Her feet were dangling over the farther arm rest while her head was nestled against the other. Her clothes were wrinkled and had obviously been worn the day before.

Marshall could only blink in confusion as he turned his body to fully face the stranger that was sleeping on his couch in his home.

What _had _happened last night?

Marshall rubbed his throbbing temples. He ran his hand through his untidy hair, releasing his held breath in a long, low sigh.

_Calm down, _He told himself. _Just because there's some hot woman in my house doesn't mean I did anything bad. _

Marshall was never one who liked to go to bars, pick up some drunken chick that was easily swayed with compliments, and have a one-night stand. He thought he was better than that. Maybe he was wrong.

Marshall dug his knuckles into his forehead hoping to extract the memory of last night through force.

Suddenly, the woman shifted with a soft sigh. She turned onto her back and then stilled.

A smile spread across Marshall's face as he took in the face that belonged to the woman. He hadn't done anything wrong. Quite the opposite actually. The memory of last night came flooding back as he studied the sleeping face of Mary Shannon.

She had come by to talk, they had some coffee and biscotti, and then they had watched "The Wedding Date." At some point, he and Mary must have fallen asleep. She had told him once that she wasn't a prone sleeper, hence the waking up on the floor.

Marshall chuckled quietly to himself at the realization. He made a quick mental note never to fall asleep near Mary ever again.

Still laughing softly to himself, Marshall ran his fingers along Mary's forehead, swiping the strands of hair out of her face. His fingers trailed down along her cheek before reluctantly falling into his lap.

Mary sighed and her hand swung out. Marshall ducked just in time and her hand fell harmlessly against the side of the couch. She had strength, even in sleep. Marshall wasn't looking forward to feeling the bruises that were sure to present themselves.

Marshall shook his head with a smile and took Mary's hand. He placed it gently on her waist but, as he started to pull his hand away, Mary's fingers curled around his. Marshall stopped as Mary murmured something incoherently. Her brow knitted as if she were worried. Of course, for all Marshall knew, it could have been out of anger. He didn't want to know what Mary was dreaming about.

Marshall smiled warmly as he wrapped his fingers around Mary's hand. She seemed to relax as her forehead smoothed. Marshall shifted silently – making sure to move his hand as little as possible – to his knees and leaned over Mary.

His eyes traveled over her face, taking in her peaceful features. It was a rare luxury to see Mary look so… calm. A scowl didn't mar her face, pain didn't cloud her eyes, cynicism didn't twist her lips into a smirk. She was completely stripped bare of her defensive front when she slept. She was her most beautiful when she dropped her barrier; her mask. Only in sleep did she allow herself to be a normal human who didn't worry about witness to protect.

Marshall couldn't resist the urge to kiss her. Yet, even though she was asleep, he didn't want to break her trust in him by doing something she wouldn't approve of.

Instead, he placed his lips lightly against Mary's forehead. "Good morning," he whispered.

Marshall pulled away to gaze once again at the face of his partner. Instead, blue eyes met brown ones.

"Good morning," Mary replied softly.

Then she lifted her head and pressed her lips over Marshall's. She slid her hand out of Marshall's hand and wrapped her arms around his neck. Marshall moved his hand under Mary's head to support her as they kissed.

After a long moment, Marshall pulled away and Mary rested her head against his hand.

"Well, that was a nice wake up call," Marshall said with a light smile.

"Except for the morning breath," Mary replied with a smirk.

Marshall laughed. "You didn't taste exactly like heaven either," he lied. Morning breath or not, Mary's kisses were a dream; a piece of heaven.

"Ha," Mary scoffed as she pushed herself up into a sitting position; forcing Marshall to lean back. "Bet I was better than stale biscotti."

"Ouch," Marshall winced with mock-pain.

Mary smirked at him and Marshall smiled back.

"Ready for work?' Marshall asked as retrieved Mary's hand and fiddled with her fingers.

Mary seemed to think about. "Do we have a choice?"

"No," Marshall answered bluntly.

Mary shrugged. "Well, we can at least show up a little late right?"

Marshall met Mary's hopeful gaze and smiled. "I don't think Stan will mind too much."

Marshall was never one to break the rules. He always showed up on time. But he had already received the Perfect Attendance Award in elementary school. He could survive without it at work.

Plus, he already had his prize. She was sitting in front of him, smiling, as she placed another kiss on his lips.

**The End (for real this time)**

**Thank-you**


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